


Pour Some Sugar On Me

by i_feel_electric



Category: Big Bang (Band), GTOP (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bottom!Top, Crack, Fluff, Food Porn, Humor, Jiyong Has Pink Hair, M/M, Seunghyun Is A Weirdo, also, they live happily ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_feel_electric/pseuds/i_feel_electric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when the coffee cake at his favorite bakery suddenly stops being as mind-blowingly awesome as it normally is, seunghyun takes it upon himself to find out the reason why. what he doesn't expect, is for that reason to be person-shaped and more charming than seunghyun is prepared to deal with while hungover on a monday morning. or ever. definitely ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pour Some Sugar On Me

**Author's Note:**

> spawned from a conversation i had with el on whatsapp; completed as a belated birthday gift for my dearest kyra <3 you'll always be my super moist chocolate cupcake.
> 
> mega thanks to candi for helping me stay sane through this. your feedback is a lifesaver every time, ilu.

Few things in life are worth waking up at five o’clock in the morning for, but the coffee cake at Maddie’s Bakery & Cafe is definitely one of them. Seunghyun isn’t talking about just any run of the mill, off the shelf grocery store garbage, either. He’s talking the real deal. The kind of shit that deserves the title of Orgasmic. Like sending your mouth on a cosmic trip through space and time and beyond. The kind of shit that Seunghyun would write poetry about if he was any good with words, but his four years of being a loyal customer seems to be more than enough for Maddie herself. Goddess of All Things Sweet and Deadly.

 

Though for some reason the box he picked up last week to bring into work was not as transcendent as it usually is. It wasn’t _bad_. Maddie’s products are never bad, bad is a word you use for the greasy pizza joint down the street from his apartment--the one that he always vows never to visit again, except always does when he gets fantastically tanked on the weekends. No, this was just...okay. But the problem is that “okay” and “Maddie” are things that shouldn’t belong together in the same sentence. Ever.

 

So today, on this glorious morning also known as Monday, Seunghyun is dragging his tired, hungover ass out of bed a lot earlier than he wants to, just to get to the bottom of this Coffee Cake Conundrum. That’s how serious he is about his baked goods. And he’s got the thighs to prove it, despite the fact that he rides his bike literally everywhere, but it’s a sacrifice he’s obviously willing to make.

 

Shuffling into the bathroom, Seunghyun squints at himself in the mirror and groans, one hand reaching for his toothbrush and the other shoving at the short blonde puff on top of his head. He looks like a fucking polar bear. Like a seriously hungover polar bear, and he sighs when a chunk on the left side refuses to lay flat. _Great_. Seunghyun fights off a scowl and jams the toothbrush into his mouth, trying to remember why he got drunk last night in the first place.

 

It was probably Youngbae’s fault, though. Because it’s always Youngbae’s fault and Seunghyun has the willpower of a baby bird. Therefore he can’t be blamed for his actions, since he was taken advantage of by his insane best friend. He nods at his reflection, deciding that this is totally sound logic, and spits into the sink.

 

Seunghyun is still half asleep when he gets dressed, slowly pulling on a t-shirt and jeans and fumbling to get his shoes onto his feet without falling over. _Man, I hate Mondays_. The only thing stopping him from crawling back into bed is the promise of freshly brewed coffee and he slings his messenger bag on with groggy determination before trudging out the door.

 

He also hates the sun, hand lifting to block its cheerful glare as he walks towards his bike. “What the fuck are you so happy about?” he mutters.

 

Not that he expects an answer from a gigantic ball of plasma, but hey.

 

Keying the lock open takes him an entire minute longer than it should and Seunghyun adds alcohol to the official list of things he hates right now. Headaches, too. And probably early morning drivers in about thirty seconds when he swings a leg over and rolls forward onto the street. Maddie’s cafe is a good seven miles away, in a completely different part of the city than where he works, but he’s got all the time in the world. Time that he should use to change his grumpy, asshole polar bear attitude.

 

Weaving into traffic, Seunghyun thinks the sun agrees, and he allows a tiny smile when it filters down through green leaves to throw light and shadow against the asphalt.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


As expected, the bakery’s pretty packed by six, the small space bustling with its usual weird as fuck combo of patrons. Honestly, how many places can you see uptight businessmen rubbing elbows with snobby, tattooed hipsters? Seunghyun, admittedly, _is_ one of those hipsters, though he prides himself on not actually being that much of an elitist jerk. Except, of course, when it comes to pastries, but nobody’s perfect.

 

He chains his bike to the rack, focus already trained on his target behind the counter when he strolls inside and sidles up to the cash register, dazzling grin plastered across his face.

 

“Morning, sunshine,” he greets.

 

Maddie’s head jolts, a responding grin tugging at her mouth and eyes crinkling warmly when she sees him. “Heyyy, troublemaker,” she replies, nudging him in the shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here on a Monday?”

 

Seunghyun huffs. “Living up to my name, apparently.”

 

Her eyebrow quirks at that and he laughs again, fidgeting with the strap of his bag. He’s never had to tell Maddie something wasn’t good and he’s a lot more nervous than he thought he would be. She acknowledges his hesitation and pokes him in the forehead.

 

“Well, spit it out.”

 

“It’s um, it’s about that coffee cake I snagged last week,” Seunghyun blurts, wincing as he presses a hand over his heart. “Pains me to say it, but not one of your best.”

 

Maddie’s expression is indecipherable as both of her eyebrows raise and she nods, merely giving him a drawn out, “Ahh.”

 

“Is that seriously all I get? “ _Ahh_ ”?” he chuckles, scooting to the side when a customer appears to pay for what looks like a massive chocolate chip muffin.

 

Seunghyun watches her closely, not missing the way she smirks and tries to hide it behind the waves of her brown hair. There’s a story here and he _will_ stare her down in order to weasel it out of her. Which is exactly what he does as soon as the customer is gone.

 

Upbeat music bounces from the speakers above them and Maddie snorts, crossing her heavily inked arms in silent challenge. She’s one of those people who is so tiny yet so intimidating, and Seunghyun might have a foot on her, but that doesn’t make a test of wills any goddamned easier. So he’s grateful when she relents a few seconds later and sighs, cocking her hip against the counter.

 

“I’m trying out a new kid,” Maddie admits, that smirk returning to curl at the edge of her lips. “Gonna need a lot of help in about six months.”

 

_Six months?_

 

It takes a moment for that comment to sink in and Seunghyun’s eyes widen immediately after. “No fucking way,” he breathes.

 

“Yes fucking way,” Maddie retorts, smiling.

 

His hands bury themselves in his hair and he just stands there, slack-jawed until she starts cracking up.

 

“Would you chill?”

 

“How come you didn’t say anything?!”

 

Seunghyun refrains from flailing in exasperation, but only just, because Maddie’s face falls a little as she shrugs, reorganizing a stack of flyers next to the register.

 

“You remember what happened last time. We didn’t wanna jinx it until we were sure,” she replies quietly.

 

The espresso machine whirs in the background, the sound of milk being steamed almost unnaturally loud, and he offers her a tilt of his mouth in lieu of saying anything about it. Because yeah, he remembers, but if she’s already in the second trimester, then that’s a good sign. A great sign.

 

“Are you excited?” Seunghyun asks.

 

“Yeah.” Maddie nods again, chewing at her lip and surprising herself when she giggles, hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Roz is, too.”

 

“She fucking better be.”

 

Another snort is his response and Maddie rolls her eyes. Seunghyun just leans over the counter to kiss her on the cheek.

 

“Congratulations,” he murmurs.

 

“Thank you, Seunghyun.” Maddie blushes, face pretty much glowing as she tries to collect herself, getting back to business. “Anyway, if you have any complaints, Jiyong’s the person to talk to, not me. He’s been making all the new stuff,” she explains, pinning him with a teasing look. “And go easy on him, all right? He’s learning. Maybe you can even give him a few pointers, since you seem to think you’re the authority around here.”

 

Scoffing, he shoots her a glare and takes a step backwards.

 

“You can’t deny that my tastebuds are magnificent.”

 

Maddie shakes her head, already ringing up the next customer. “When you flirt with him, just keep it PG-13. I don’t want you corrupting my unborn baby.”

 

“Walking away, Maddie,” Seunghyun calls, turning on his heel. “Walking away.”

 

Why she thinks he’s in danger of being a shameless flirt becomes excruciatingly clear the minute he queues up at the display counter. Because standing behind it, smiling widely at a woman in the front of the line, is the single most adorable human Seunghyun has ever seen. _Maddie, you know me too well_.

 

He swallows a whine, incapable of looking elsewhere as the space between them becomes less and less, his gut twisting in both anticipation and dread. If telling Maddie something wasn’t good sent him into a mild panic, well, he has no idea how the hell he’s going to deal with _this_ . This being soft, cotton-candy pink hair tied back in a messy bun, loose strands sticking to damp skin. This being shy eye smiles and long fingers and cheeks dusted in streaks of flour. _This_ being the reason for Seunghyun’s imminent and painful death.

 

Because Jiyong looks like the personification of a fucking Care Bear and at any moment he expects a giant, sparkly rainbow to shoot out from the embroidered cupcake on his apron, spreading joy and happiness everywhere.

 

Seunghyun inches closer to the counter, only one more customer remaining between him and oblivion, and nearly has a heart attack when Jiyong turns and their gazes intersect. Warmth floods him from head to toe, his mouth hanging open like a dead fish. It’s a miracle that Seunghyun doesn’t immediately explode into dust particles and he ducks his head, cursing his sudden loss of game, and scrubs a hand through his hair, embarrassed.

 

The pair of feet in front of him vanish then, leaving him defenseless and alone, the last person remaining. He adjusts the weight of his messenger bag and sucks in a deep breath as he steps forward, glancing at Jiyong only to find him nibbling on the swell of his bottom lip. Seunghyun freezes, greeting caught somewhere in his throat, because from this distance Jiyong is technicolor realness and he’s absolutely certain pink will be forever ruined from this day on.

 

“Hi?” Jiyong prompts with a slight laugh.

 

One syllable and this is already gearing up to be a remarkably awkward conversation. Seunghyun offers a timid smile and bobs his head, hands dipping into his pockets.

 

“Uh,” he utters brilliantly. “Hey.”

 

“You’re Seunghyun, right?” Jiyong asks, a slow smirk blooming and then fading when Seunghyun nods a second time. “Maddie’s told me a lot about you.”

 

His own laugh sounds a bit on the deranged side. “All lies.”

 

Jiyong leans in a bit, his dark eyes sparking with humor, and Seunghyun has to remind himself that inhaling oxygen is a thing he should keep doing.

 

“Even the part about you being, and I quote, “the sweetest chocolate covered strawberry I’ve ever met.”?”

 

An unholy snort rockets out of his nose. “She really said that?”

 

“Sure did.”

 

“Okay, mostly lies,” Seunghyun amends, and Jiyong’s burst of amusement--his radiant and near soundless dorky fucking laughter--is better than every single coffee cake he’s ever had in the twenty-six years he’s been alive.

 

Needless to say, that’s an obscene amount of cake and Seunghyun should probably start coming to terms with the fact that it’s been less than five minutes and he’s basically in love. Especially with how he’s being smiled at right now, like Jiyong thinks he’s charming instead of ridiculous. Maybe his game isn’t so off after all.

 

“I’m Jiyong, by the way. It’s nice to finally put a face to all the stories,” Jiyong says through a final chuckle, hand extending into the two feet of space between them.

 

Seunghyun grins somewhat bashfully, positive he’s blushing like the strawberry that he is, and takes Jiyong’s hand, the brief contact stirring the cloud of rabid butterflies in his stomach.

 

“I don’t even wanna know _what_ stories.”

 

“Good ones, scout’s honor.” Jiyong holds up two fingers and Seunghyun’s eyebrows try to climb into his hair.

 

“You were a Boy Scout,” he states flatly.

 

“For like, three months in the fifth grade.” Jiyong shrugs, mouth twitching. “I got kicked out because I’m not very good at following rules.”

 

Crossing his arms, he regards Seunghyun with naked curiosity, focus winding down from his face to where his legs vanish behind the counter and then back up. The intense perusal has a giddy sort of tingle riding his shoulders, Seunghyun well aware that he just got hardcore checked out, but his brain is stuck on the part where Jiyong is legitimately making a pass at him.

 

Maddie was totally worried about the _wrong_ flirt.

 

“So…” Jiyong begins, that sly smile never quitting. “Are you gonna order anything or is standing there looking gorgeous your intended goal for this morning?”

 

Seunghyun’s jaw drops he’s so amazed and he can’t help but choke on his laughter, because _jesus christ, you smooth ass motherfucker._ He slides his hands over his cheeks, feels how hot they are.

 

“Wow, you’re--”

 

“A lot,” Jiyong cuts him off, biting hard into his lip as he tilts his head. “Better get used to it.”

 

He releases a rush of air, wondering how the fuck he ended up here and how much of this he can blame on Maddie for talking about him behind his back--no doubt painting a picture that was prettier than the reality. Jiyong’s smile gentles though, and Seunghyun huffs out another laugh, feeling more nervous than he has in a long, long time.

 

“Um, so,” he moves on, not even pretending that Jiyong doesn’t throw him way the hell off balance as he stumbles through his next thought. “I actually had--” Seunghyun inhales. “H-had a question. About the coffee cake.”

 

“I’m listening,” Jiyong replies, clearly very entertained by his failure to word.

 

He barrels on despite this.

 

“Why did you change the recipe?”

 

Jiyong’s eyebrows knit together. “I didn’t.”

 

“Oh. Shit,” Seunghyun mumbles, fingers jamming into his hair as he rushes to explain. “Then this is probably gonna make me sound like a dick and not that it wasn’t great, I mean my co-workers still devoured it like fucking cake-starved dinosaurs, but--”

 

“Seunghyun,” Jiyong stops him again, beaming.

 

His arms flop to his sides and he thinks that no one should look that thrilled about being criticized, but it’s obvious at this point that Jiyong is far from average.

 

“It’s all right, you don’t have to sugar coat it. I know I’m not Maddie.”

 

“Okay,” he answers, looking down at his feet as he heaves another sigh to calm himself. His eyes dart to Jiyong’s and then away. “It’s just that it could’ve been better, is what I’m saying.”

 

The smile he gets now is worse than an ocean of molten chocolate and honestly this a lot for one guy to take in at six-thirty on a Monday morning. Hungover and without caffeine. Jiyong just tucks a wisp of pink behind his ear and nods.

 

“Then I’ll try again. Thanks for being honest.”

 

“No problem.”

 

Seunghyun grips the strap of his messenger bag with both hands, rocking back on his heels, trying not to stare. But it’s a struggle because Jiyong is so stupidly beautiful, standing there with that sweet smile on his face and a warmth in his rich, nut-brown eyes that _does things to him_. Things Seunghyun can’t even begin to articulate, since his brain is seconds from leaking out of his goddamned ears.

 

Thankfully, Jiyong saves him from the painful task of thinking of something to say that isn’t horribly idiotic.

 

“So I know it’s not coffee cake,” Jiyong begins, moving over to the display case next to the counter. “But I’d like to recommend these super moist cupcakes as a possible Plan B.”

 

He looks at the tray in question, noting that the frosting is bright pink and covered in rainbow sprinkles. Seunghyun absolutely does not immediately begin to imagine Jiyong covered from head to toe in said sprinkles--clothed or otherwise--and he clears his throat to chase the image away, schooling his features and leaning in conspiratorially.

 

“How moist are we talking?” he deadpans.

 

“Exceptionally moist,” Jiyong answers, equally poker-faced.

 

“The moistest?”

 

“No cupcake has ever been this moist before.”

 

It’s pretty remarkable that neither of them end up losing it, Jiyong’s tone so serious you’d think they weren’t talking about baked goods. But then the mask drops and Jiyong is grinning again and Seunghyun’s heart squeezes in his chest like it wants to give up on life.

 

“Here, see for yourself.”

 

Jiyong reaches into the display case and delicately lifts a fluffy cupcake from its glass prison, depositing it on a plate and setting it on the counter in front of him. For a moment, he imagines that he’s a god receiving a sacred offering--the swirl of pink on top of the chocolate base too perfect to be real. Then Jiyong produces a knife and cuts it in half, exposing its perfectly spongy insides. Seunghyun’s mouth legitimately waters. He might as well be watching porn right now.

 

“I feel like I’m about to commit a crime,” he murmurs, more to himself than anything, but Jiyong chuckles and nudges the plate into his space.

 

“Just try it. I promise you’ll love it.”

 

Those brown eyes swim with endless amusement. Seunghyun is the definition of overwhelmed.

 

Still, he can’t just let the poor cupcake _sit_ there. So he picks up one of the halves and attempts to take the least messy bite he can, not wanting to come across like a rabid animal in front of someone he might have a chance with. Seunghyun’s thoughts on Jiyong being that someone are temporarily derailed when the blissful combination of chocolate and buttercream hits his tongue. Like, literally. His tongue has been violently assaulted and should probably file a police report because heaven isn’t supposed to hurt this good. He can’t even prevent the low moan that bleeds out of him, it’s just that delicious.

 

“Dear god,” Seunghyun groans, licking the remnants of frosting from his lips.

 

And if the cupcake itself wasn’t life-ruining enough, the way Jiyong’s focusing on his mouth certainly is--cheeks flushed and dark eyes almost glazed over. It’s kind of amazing, actually, and Seunghyun finds some of his usual boldness returning as he flicks his tongue out to gather a dollop of pink. Then he stuffs the rest of the cupcake half into his mouth and takes his time sucking his fingers clean, enjoying the burst of flavor on his tastebuds as much as the flustered expression on Jiyong’s lovely face.

 

 _Yup_ , he thinks to himself. _Still got it_.

 

“Hey Choi!” a voice suddenly shouts from the other side of the bakery. “You better stop harassing my employees and order something.”

 

Seunghyun jerks around to see Maddie smirking at him and that’s when he notices the growing line of customers waiting to be helped. Now it’s his turn to blush again, fierce heat setting his skin on fire, and he scratches at the back of his head wishing the fire would swallow him whole.

 

“Fuck, sorry,” he blurts, trying not make more of an ass out of himself as he looks at Jiyong, who seems just as embarrassed.

 

“Well then…” Jiyong wipes his palms against his apron and arches an eyebrow.

 

“I’ll take two dozen.”

 

The other eyebrow joins the first. Seunghyun smiles. “Cake-starved dinosaurs, remember?”

 

Jiyong smiles back, picking up a pair of tongs and two empty takeaway boxes, carefully packing the cupcakes inside.

 

“You must be everyone’s favorite person at work.”

 

“They only love me until they start going through withdrawals,” he comments dryly. “Then I’m on their shitlist for the rest of the week.”

 

He hears Jiyong’s huff of laughter and likes the way he can’t keep his lips from twitching as he sets one box down and starts filling the other. Or the way his cheeks are still adorably pink, complementing his hair. Really, Seunghyun could make a gigantic list of the things he likes right now. But the one thing that definitely isn’t on it, is the fact that he has to leave.

 

“Maybe you should start coming by more often,” Jiyong suggests, taping the boxes shut. He stacks them on top of each other and slides them forward with both hands.

 

Swallowing thickly, Seunghyun reaches out for them--their fingertips meeting in the middle. Which is also a thing that he likes because it makes a fresh batch of butterflies explode in his stomach.

 

“Maybe I should.”

 

“How about tomorrow?” Jiyong asks, gaze unwavering. “I need someone to taste test that coffee cake, after all.”

 

“I’ll be there.” He nods dumbly, pauses, then shakes his head. “I mean here. I’ll be here. Tomorrow. For the coffee cake.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Right.”

 

The person behind him coughs obnoxiously and Seunghyun blinks, gathering the boxes to his chest and yeah, he’s _definitely_ making an ass out of himself. But it’s worth it. Because Jiyong’s eyes are dancing and he’s biting down on his lip to control the width of his smile, except it isn’t working, and Seunghyun just wants to stare at him forever and ever. Instead, he shuffles backwards and waves awkwardly like a moron. Which, praise all deities, gets him one last, brilliant giggle in response.

 

Seunghyun mentally fist pumps his victory.

 

“So, when’s the wedding?” Maddie asks casually once he makes it to the register. “Because I totally call dibs on being your best man.”

 

“I hate you so much,” he mutters, fumbling for his wallet. She just scoffs and bags his tower of cupcakes without another word.

  
  
  


*

  
  


The bike ride to work passes in a blur. Seunghyun’s a little surprised the earth is still spinning after a morning like that, honestly. Because it’s almost too good to be true. And he’d write it off as a fluke if not for the weight of the cupcake boxes in his hand reminding him that no, he’s not still in bed having the most cruelly vivid dream of his life. Jiyong is real. Jiyong is painfully attractive. Jiyong flirted with him a whole hell of a lot and has the most beautiful, dorky laugh Seunghyun has ever heard.

 

But the worst part, and there most certainly is a “worst part”, is that he’s already fantasizing about tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that. Weeks and weeks of Jiyong’s gummy smile and sarcasm, all directed at him.

 

Seunghyun is so distracted by this fantasy that he forgets to push the button for the fifth floor when he walks into the elevator with his bike. He doesn’t even know how long he stands there spacing out, just that it scares the shit out of him when the doors glide open and he’s still in the lobby--the people waiting to get on staring at him like he’s a total weirdo. Which, let’s face it, he’s that, too.

 

A few minutes of strained silence later, he’s on the fifth floor, muscle memory the only reason why he remembers to leave his bike with the others in the hallway before strolling into the open-plan loft space that is The Office. Though it’s hardly an office, more like a playground for adults. Or kids who pretend to be adults and spend most of their time organizing ping pong tournaments instead of doing actual work.

 

The sad thing is that he’s only half-kidding.

 

“Hey man, what took you so long?” Youngbae asks, appearing out of thin air.

 

Seunghyun barely even registers the words or who’s speaking them.

 

“I’m a cupcake,” he mumbles.

 

Youngbae snorts out a laugh. “What?”

 

“I mean, I _brought_ cupcakes,” Seunghyun corrects himself, rubbing at his eyes with one hand and holding out the boxes with the other. “Here, just take this, I need to sit the fuck down or something.”

 

As he wanders towards his desk, he’s vaguely aware of the heads that all perk up and turn around like conditioned meerkats--the word “cupcake” weaving its magic spell throughout the room almost instantaneously. If he had the brainpower to be amused, he’d laugh, but as it is, he just drops his bag on the floor and slumps down into his chair with a sigh.

 

“Seunghyun. Hey,” Youngbae calls, face creased in worry when he breaks free of the mob of sugar addicts and jogs over. “You all right? What happened?”

 

How does he summarize this morning? Fatal attack? Happy accident? Seunghyun lets his head loll back and his arms go limp, sliding further down in his seat, and just says point blank, “I think I’m in love.”

 

His friend barely flinches.

 

“It’s been Monday for eight hours and you’re already in love.”

 

“Yup.”

 

Leaning closer, Youngbae starts sniffing the air around him. “Are you still drunk?”

 

“What? No.” Seunghyun smacks him away, chuckling. “Fuck off.”

 

That gets a broad smile going, Youngbae giggling and stumbling away to sit on the desk across from his.

 

“So what’s his name? Doughnut von Bear Claw?”

 

He scowls and all warm fuzzy best friend feelings promptly vanish. “It’s Jiyong, you asshole. He works at Maddie’s, she just hired him because she’s pregnant again.”

 

Youngbae’s eyes widen. “Oh, no way, that’s awesome,” he grins.

 

Seunghyun just nods lazily.

 

“Did you get his number?”

 

He shakes his head. Youngbae frowns again.

 

“Did you at least get his last name so you can stalk him on social networking?”

 

Another shake. He’s pretty sure he’s pouting.

 

“Dude,” Youngbae states emphatically, judgment heavy in his tone.

 

Seunghyun’s pretty much sliding onto the floor at this point, really wishing he could transform himself into a sad, sad puddle.

 

“You have no idea what I was up against, Bae,” he argues pathetically. “He’s like me, but a million times worse. I even forgot my fucking coffee.”

 

The implications of that sentence sink in slowly and Youngbae has the decency to actually appear startled, mouth hanging open as he struggles to respond.

 

“ _Wow_.”

 

“I know, right?” Seunghyun is definitely pouting now.

 

Hopping to his feet, Youngbae walks over and bends at the waist to plant his hands on Seunghyun’s shoulders, leveling him with a compassionate look.

 

“It’s gonna be okay, buddy.”

 

He narrows his eyes. “Y’know, you say that all the time and I never believe you.”

 

Youngbae chuckles, yanking him up into a proper sitting position and then ruffling his hair. “Stop being so dramatic, man,” he scolds. “You’re gonna see him again, right?”

 

“He asked me to come by tomorrow.”

 

“Then why are you being such a baby?”

 

Seunghyun averts his gaze, sticking his finger through the hole at the bottom his his shirt and making it bigger.

 

“Because I’m afraid that he won’t like the real me,” he admits reluctantly.

 

There’s some truth and some bullshit in that confession, he knows. Because he was the biggest nerd today and Jiyong still seemed interested. Even so, Seunghyun can’t help watering those kernels of doubt and letting them grow. It’s second-nature; a reflex he developed as a pudgy kid with shit for social skills and strange habits. Youngbae heaves a sigh, gripping his shoulder again. This is old hat for him. They did grow up together, after all.

 

Seunghyun lifts his head when Youngbae squeezes to get his attention, his friend’s eyes glowing with that annoying as fuck sincerity that usually makes him want to throw up or cry. Sometimes both, depending on the circumstances. Regardless, he braces for forthcoming Words of Bae Wisdom.

 

“Seunghyun, you couldn’t hide your freak flag even if you wanted to. I’m sure he already knows and doesn’t give a shit. He probably likes it. In which case you also probably deserve each other and I haven’t even met the guy. So quit moping and get to work.”

 

“But...but what if all of this,” he indicates himself with a dejected wave of his hand, “is too much?”

 

Youngbae’s gaze hardens just enough to be noticeable. “I thought we agreed that you’re not allowed to talk about yourself like that.”

 

Opening his mouth to protest is a bad idea, because Youngbae rolls his eyes and shoves at Seunghyun’s head.

 

“Stop it. I can see your self-deprecation from the fucking moon, don’t even go there.”

 

“I just--” Seunghyun pauses, inhaling steadily and letting it go. “I know it’s only been one day, but I really like him, y’know? In a serious way, not in a fucking around way.”

 

Affection worms its way into every line of Youngbae’s face as his expression goes soft and he smirks. “All the more reason to let him know exactly what kind of crazy he’s signing himself up for.”

 

He kicks his leg out, but Youngbae evades the attack at the last minute, snickering.

 

“You’re fired. I want a new best friend.”

 

“Oh, come on,” Youngbae laughs. And when Seunghyun goes to kick him again, Youngbae spins to the right and smacks him upside the head.

 

“Ow! You fucker,” he growls, lunging up from his chair to go after him.

 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Youngbae practically cackles as he jogs in the opposite direction, weaving through the clusters of tables and dodging bemused coworkers.

 

Why he’s surprised that this is helping, he has no idea--because their collective absurdity always does--and Seunghyun doesn’t even care that they’re making a scene, just drags Youngbae into a headlock when he catches him and destroys his perfectly coiffed mohawk with the noogie to end all noogies.

 

“Uncle!” Youngbae squawks. “Uncle, uncle, uncle, oh my god uncle.”

 

Satisfied with his handiwork, Seunghyun chuckles and lets go, admiring the short, black bird’s nest on top of his friend’s head.

 

“That’s a good look for you, Bae.”

 

“You are so evil.”

 

“Evil and crazy,” he muses. “Maybe I chose the wrong profession.”

 

Youngbae grins. “Nah, you’re too squishy to be a villain.”

 

“Which is why no one will suspect me...” he trails off, a flash of pink distracting him.

 

Seunghyun drifts over to the table where Youngbae left the cupcakes, astounded that there’s one left amongst the wreckage of crumbs, and snags it. “Hey, you wanna split this?”

 

Youngbae’s hand goes straight to his chest. “Be still my heart, you’re sharing?”

 

“Consider it an official apology for the hair.”

 

He wanders into the kitchen to find a knife, Youngbae trailing behind him. When he offers one half of the cupcake, he gets a sunny smile in thanks, both of them silent as they surrender themselves to chocolatey euphoria. Cupcake therapy should be an actual thing, he thinks. Because the comfort he feels right now is immense and bone-deep and sublime. Seunghyun briefly wonders if there’s any milk in the fridge that he can steal, but a hand on his arm prevents him from putting that plan into action.

 

“You know you’re awesome, right?” Youngbae asks, regarding Seunghyun seriously, but with all the fondness of a twenty year friendship. “Don’t sweat the Jiyong thing. I have faith.”

 

Lips twitching, he nods once, nudging into him gratefully. “Thanks, Bae.”

 

Reaching up, Youngbae gives Seunghyun’s fluffy white hair another ruffle and then goes to wash their dishes in the sink.

 

For the rest of the day he miraculously manages to stay focused. Mostly. Sort of? Seunghyun actually _does_ try not to think about Jiyong every other minute, but the amount of times he stared at his graphic design projects and wondered if he could get away with adding cotton candy pink to every single one of them might be cause for concern.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


The next day, Seunghyun wakes up feeling sick to his stomach with nerves. Which is ridiculous. Because he has nothing to be nervous about. Jiyong just wants to see him again, why would that make him nervous? It shouldn’t. He’s not nervous. Nope. Not even a little bit.

 

“Get it together, man,” he grumbles at the ceiling.

 

Scrubbing his sleep-deprived face with his hands, Seunghyun tries to climb out of bed. Tries, because his feet get tangled up in the sheets halfway through the process and he loses his balance, falling onto the ground with a loud thud. He groan-laughs into the carpet. It’s cool. He can do this.

 

Except the rest of the morning doesn’t get any better.

 

In the shower, he slips on the tiles and smacks his elbow really fucking hard against the sliding glass door. Then his favorite pair of jeans rip in the middle of putting them on, making him think that maybe he needs to lay off the pastries, but it’s such a ludicrous notion that he ignores it. After that, he spends about twenty minutes looking for his keys and finds them underneath the couch. How that happened he doesn’t even want to know. Later, it’s the knot in his shoelaces that doesn’t want to come undone and his bike lock that doesn’t want to fucking disengage and the car that almost plows through him when it runs a red light three blocks from the bakery.

 

By the time Seunghyun walks in the door, he’s doing his best grumpy, asshole polar bear impression again and he hopes-- _oh, how he hopes_ \--that his bad luck has run out for the day. He doesn’t think he could survive seeing Jiyong and having it go to hell in a fucking handbasket just because the universe decided it would be fun to shit all over him.

 

Taking a deep breath, he gets in line. Noah’s manning the register today and Seunghyun executes a brief wave, not having the motivation to return the kid’s smile when he waves back. He can’t even muster the motivation to feel _bad_ when Noah looks disappointed that he doesn’t. Which in turn makes him feel like a huge prick, and isn’t that just par for the course this morning? Seunghyun deflates a bit and shuffles forward when the line moves, hardly paying much attention to anything. He’s so out of it, he doesn’t realize it’s his turn at the counter until Jiyong waves a hand in front of his face, bringing him back to reality.

 

“Why do you look like someone just murdered a basket of kittens?” Jiyong asks, eyebrows furrowed.

 

“Rough morning.” Seunghyun shrugs. “It’s not really my day.”

 

He doesn’t bother hiding the fact that he’s staring openly, just happy that Jiyong is finally in front of him again, as adorably disheveled as he was yesterday.

 

Jiyong offers him a sympathetic twist of lips. “I’m sorry,” he says, fingers gripping the edge of the counter like he maybe wants to do something about it, but doesn’t know what. Then his smile flashes a bit brighter and he scurries to the other end of the display case, returning with a plate. “Maybe this’ll cheer you up,” he murmurs, pushing it towards him.

 

A pristine and impressively large square of coffee cake peers back at him, its crumbly, cinnamon and pecan infused topping glittering bewitchingly under the warm bakery lights. Seunghyun kind of wants to cry, it looks so beautiful. There’s even a moment where he forgets that he’s supposed to eat it. Then Jiyong hands him a fork and nothing else matters.

 

Seunghyun takes a bite. Angels sing. He may or may not actually have tears of joy in his eyes.

 

“It’s really good, Jiyong,” he mumbles, still chewing.

 

Jiyong nibbles on his lip and fights to keep a straight face, obviously pretending that this doesn’t please him greatly. “But? I hear a but coming, give it to me straight.”

 

Mouth curling in a genuine smile for the first time since he woke up, Seunghyun sets the fork down on the plate, crossing his arms.

 

“But there’s still something missing. Maybe Maddie laces it with narcotics, I’ve never asked.”

 

The sound of bubbly laughter floats into his ears and it’s like having the elixir of life injected directly into his bloodstream.

 

“Yeah, I keep trying to spy on her while she’s baking,” Jiyong tells him, hands on his hips, expression pensive. “But she always ninjas her way through it because she wants me to figure it out on my own.”

 

Seunghyun sighs. “She’s a tricky one.”

 

“No kidding. Guess I’ll have to keep trying.” Jiyong sighs too, eyes no less radiant despite the setback. His gaze passes over Seunghyun, seeming more concerned than flirtatious. “You feeling any better?”

 

“Just hearing you laugh has made a huge difference,” he confesses, cheeks hot with the burst of honesty.

 

Jiyong’s answering grin is incandescent and he ducks his head.

 

“Pulling out the big guns already, I see.”

 

Arching an eyebrow, he snorts. “Look who’s talking.”

 

This draws another round of golden laughter from pretty lips and Seunghyun doesn’t exactly swoon, but he’s definitely in the vicinity. _Swoon-adjacent? Let’s go with that_.

 

What can he even say, though? There’s just something magnetic about Jiyong. Fascinating, charismatic, irresistible--whatever way you want to paint it, he’s that and more and he can’t even really put his finger on what _that_ is. Because although they might not know each other that well-- _yet_ , he reminds himself--being in Jiyong’s space makes everything a little more bearable. It also makes him blurt cheesy shit, apparently, but no one seems to mind.

 

The low hum of bakery chatter fills the silence between them as they linger there, Seunghyun wishing he could stretch this quiet moment out for as long as possible. The universe doesn’t really play by his rules, unfortunately, and Jiyong fidgets--brushing stray tendrils of pink off of his forehead and fixing his apron.

 

“Can I…can I get you anything else?”

 

“Um, just a coffee, thanks. Black,” Seunghyun replies, gesturing behind him. “I think I’m gonna sit at a table for a bit before I brave the outside world again.”

 

Jiyong nods and gifts him another sweet smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

Pouring coffee into a big ceramic mug takes all of thirty seconds and Seunghyun regrets not ordering something more elaborate so he’d have a valid excuse to stand there longer. He grins and nods his thanks and is just about to head to the register when Jiyong stops him.

 

“Don’t forget the cake.”

 

Seunghyun must telegraph his confusion pretty clearly because Jiyong is once again trying and failing to hold back his amusement.

 

“It’s on me, don’t worry about it.”

 

“You sure?” he asks.

 

“Yeah,” Jiyong chuckles anyway. “I’m sure.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“It’s entirely my pleasure.”

 

And there it is--that flirty spark in his eyes that Seunghyun is becoming all too familiar with. Only now there’s something else in the mix and he doesn’t want to define it, because he’s not equipped to deal with the intensity of his feelings for a virtual stranger this early in the morning. Especially not when the world hates him. So he blushes, since that’s all he really _can_ do in this situation, and flees to the register.

 

“Hey, Seunghyun,” Noah greets, beaming and far more chipper than he has any right to be.

 

“Hi.” He makes sure to return the smile this time, handing over a couple bucks for the drink. “Jiyong said the coffee cake was comped.”

 

“I know.”

 

Noah smirks at him like he’s an idiot. And it’s true, but he still resents it on principle.

 

“You know,” Seunghyun states flatly.

 

“He’s been asking everyone about you ever since you came in yesterday.”

 

_Is that so…_

 

“Fuck,” he breathes, heart beating faster in his chest.

 

“I thought that was a good thing?” Noah swaps his smugness for bewilderment.

 

“Yeah. It is, I just--” Seunghyun almost drops his coffee and has to force his arms not to gesticulate wildly in exasperation. “I wasn’t expecting...that.”

 

He wasn’t expecting _anything_ , honestly. So this? This is a lot. “I’m, uh,” Seunghyun flounders. “I’m gonna find a table before I hurt myself or anyone else.”

 

“You do that,” Noah replies, but he’s already moving, pushing his way through the line to get to a seat near the windows.

 

Collapsing into the chair, Seunghyun unclips his messenger bag and lets it fall on the floor. He doesn’t kid himself for one second that he chose this spot for its view of the idyllic, leafy, sun-dappled street. Which is nice, don’t get him wrong, but he’s a little more preoccupied with the view to his left. And if the sly, surreptitious glances Jiyong throws him every so often are anything to go by, he’s definitely not the only one.

 

It’s kind of hard to believe that three days ago, Seunghyun didn’t even know Jiyong existed. And he feels at an unfair disadvantage since Maddie spilled all his secrets and all he has is about twenty minutes--okay, really wonderful minutes--of experience to work with. Which begs the question: how can he be _this_ invested this soon?

 

Piercing the crumbly coffee cake with his fork, he stuffs a sizeable bite into his mouth and takes a moment to stare thoughtfully into his mug. Seunghyun is well aware of his tendencies to leap before he looks--always handing his heart over to anyone who might seem even remotely interested, without any consideration for self-preservation. It’s a talent. He’s gotten very good at it. Should he be proud of this? Probably not. Because nine times out of ten, he’s the one who ends up disappointed. And alone, let’s not forget that. But as he watches Jiyong serve customers plates of baked happiness--relaxed, laughing, vivid; generously sharing himself with all of these people he’s never met before…

 

Well, Seunghyun has no choice but to stamp his predicament with the official seal of “FUCKED”.

 

A label that is horrifyingly accurate for how he feels right now when he notices that Jiyong is no longer behind the counter and is, in fact, heading towards his table. Seunghyun gulps desperately at his coffee, hoping that it somehow has supernatural powers and magics him into someone interesting and not-crazy.

 

“Mind if I sit?” Jiyong points at the chair across from him and he shakes his head.

 

He looks over at the line of customers that’s still impressively long. “Um…”

 

Jiyong’s mouth curves as he folds himself onto the chair, not turning away to follow Seunghyun’s gaze. “Maddie just got here,” he answers the unspoken question. “I decided to take my break now instead of later.”

 

“Oh.” Seunghyun feels a blush coming on. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

“You should.”

 

 _Man_. Is he ready for this? Not even a little bit. But he straightens and makes eye-contact with Jiyong anyway, mentally commanding his fingers not to play with anything on the table. Maybe he should sit on them. He does.

 

Except it doesn’t do much to keep him from feeling jittery and, admittedly, sort of scared that he’s going to screw this up. If he didn’t open his mouth again, that would be pretty easy, but seeing as how this is the real world, also one-hundred percent unlikely. Seunghyun exhales slowly. He lets himself study Jiyong and ignores the itch in his fingers to reach over and brush off the streak of flour dusting his cheek.

 

The thing is, Jiyong does the exact same thing, and for several somewhat awkward minutes, all they do is stare at each other.

 

 _Is this weird? This is weird_. His stomach flutters and he can’t help but smile like a bashful toddler with his first schoolyard crush.

 

“Noah outed you earlier, by the way,” Seunghyun finds himself blurting as soon as the thought enters his head and decides to roll with it. “He said you’d been asking about me.”

 

Jiyong’s eyes widen, one hand rising to rub at the back of his neck as he nods and hiccups out a short laugh. “Yeah. Yes. That is something I did.”

 

He probably shouldn’t enjoy Jiyong’s embarrassment so much, but...

 

“Come on, then. Spill,” Seunghyun grins. “I wanna know what they told you, so I can deny everything.”

 

Jiyong snorts. “Who says it was bad?”

 

“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you,” he answers primly, freeing a hand to sip from his coffee.

 

More laughter. Seunghyun lets go of some of his nervousness and basks in this--the banter, the easy smiles. Because Jiyong’s expression is all profound, glittering amusement and, to be perfectly honest, he doesn’t want his heart back, even if Jiyong doesn’t take it in the end.

 

Clearing his throat, Jiyong props his elbows on the table and starts listing off the information he gleaned, counting each fact with his fingers.

 

“Seunghyun Choi, age twenty-six, notorious flirt, works as a graphic designer, has an unparalleled appreciation for pastries everywhere, and is a chocolate-covered strawberry masquerading as a human.”

 

Seunghyun hides his smirk in the rim of his cup. “That’s it?”

 

Jiyong shakes his head. “I learned more from what they didn’t say.”

 

“And what’s the verdict?” he asks.

 

“I think I liked you before I even met you,” Jiyong admits quietly, dropping his chin into his palm and lips spreading wider. “Seeing you for the first time was kind of a shock to the system.”

 

With a huff, he scrubs at his head, nerves coming back full force and cheeks aflame.

 

“You, um, you didn’t seem very shocked.”

 

“Believe me, I was.”

 

Seunghyun would hardly classify himself as “shocking”, but if Jiyong thinks so, he’s not going to sit here and argue. It’s just hard to accept that maybe the world doesn’t hate him as much as he originally thought.

 

“Can I politely request that you level the playing field?” he asks, draining the last of his coffee.

 

Jiyong drops his hand and leans forward, shifting in his seat until Seunghyun can feel the press of his knee against his own. He sucks in a quick breath.

 

“Jiyong Kwon, age twenty-five, wannabe pastry chef, has a weird obsession with all things pink, loves chocolate more than anything else in the universe.” Jiyong pauses to gnaw on his lip before continuing. “Hopes the guy sitting across from him might be interested in coming over for dinner on Saturday night.”

 

And just like that, the proverbial rug gets yanked out from under him. Seunghyun laughs because he doesn’t know what else to do, all this Smooth Operator shit leaving him stunned. Thrilled, but stunned. He pushes both hands through his hair, undoubtedly making it stick up in odd directions, and then slumps forward onto the table, meeting Jiyong halfway. If he happens to press their legs together a little more firmly, well, he’s got a reputation to live up to, right?

 

“Only if there’s dessert involved,” he murmurs.

 

“Pretty sure that goes without saying, Seunghyun,” Jiyong drawls, reaching for his abandoned fork to steal a bite of coffee cake.

 

Seunghyun cracks another smile. “Then yeah, I’m interested.”

 

Eyes narrowing as he chews, Jiyong steals a second bite and shovels it into his mouth.

 

“If I find out you only want me for my pastries, you’re gonna be in so much trouble.”

 

“I assure you that’s not the case,” he replies a bit distantly, strangely fascinated by the vision that is Jiyong eating.

 

So fascinated, that he remains mute until the cake has been decimated and the plate all but licked clean--Jiyong using the tip of his finger to collect every last crumb. It might have something to do with his mouth. It might. He can’t be trusted to say one way or the other, distracted by Jiyong’s lips as much as the spread of his eyelashes. How his nose wrinkles when he sniffs. The delicate movements of his hands, how his eyebrow quirks when he catches Seunghyun watching.

 

“What?” Jiyong asks. “Don’t judge me.”

 

Seunghyun chuckles and releases a sigh. “I’m not,” he insists. “You’re just beautiful.”

 

Faint pink spreads across Jiyong’s face, his index finger still in his mouth from sucking it clean, and he smirks around it before removing it with a tiny, satisfied smacking noise.

 

“I already asked you out, you don’t have to overdo it.”

 

“Honesty is overdoing it?” Seunghyun laughs again.

 

“Maddie really wasn’t lying when she said you were an alien,” Jiyong mutters, hand preemptively shooting out to stop Seunghyun’s protests. “And I don’t mean that as an insult, just that you’re....well, you’re something else.”

 

“Something else,” he repeats.

 

Jiyong merely shrugs and even the slight movement of his shoulders is delicate. “Unusual. Rare. Different. Way too attractive to not be from another planet,” he lists off easily.

 

Seunghyun leans back in his chair, grinning in amazed disbelief. “Now who’s overdoing it.”

 

“Sorry.” Jiyong offers a sheepish smile in return. “I deflect a lot.”

 

“Can’t say I noticed,” he remarks wryly.

 

Smile growing, Jiyong starts neatly arranging the dishes, placing the fork inside the mug and setting it on the empty plate.

 

“I should head back.”

 

He sounds apologetic, but Seunghyun knows, even if he doesn’t like it, that life waits for no one and they can’t sit here all day making eyes at each other.

 

“It’s okay, I should go to work.”

 

They both pull themselves up from their seats, reluctance in every motion. Jiyong nibbles at his lip and doesn’t take the plate yet, looking like he’s in the middle of making a decision as he steps closer to Seunghyun. He’s instantly blindsided by the urge to kiss him, but thinks that maybe he should wait to do that when they’re not surrounded by about thirty complete strangers. Seunghyun congratulates himself on his self-control.

 

“This might be too much, and I know I just accused you of overdoing it, but can I give you a hug?” Jiyong asks in a rush, ducking his head to fiddle with the tie of his apron. “It’s just that when you walked in you looked like you really needed one.”

 

“Yeah,” Seunghyun answers, feeling overly full of--well, feelings--because this wonderful person standing in front of him is real. He tilts his head to catch Jiyong’s gaze again. “I wouldn’t say no to a hug.”

 

Without hesitating, Jiyong coils his arms around Seunghyun’s waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder, embracing him snugly and not at all shy about it.

 

He freezes for a minute. Not panicking, exactly, because he knew it was coming, but he needs a second--to acknowledge that yes, this is happening and it’s not his overactive imagination--before wrapping his own arms around Jiyong. Jiyong, who is warm and solid and smells like something more than just flour. Smells like five in the morning and his mom making cinnamon rolls because she couldn’t sleep anymore, smile tired but kind as she let him help make the icing from scratch. Seunghyun breathes in deep and doesn’t think it’s too much when he presses his nose into Jiyong’s hair, eyes closing all on their own.

 

Thumbs rub circles into his back, the world fades into the abstract, and he finds a little bit of peace in the kindness of such a simple yet utterly meaningful gesture.

 

Fucked doesn’t even begin to cover it.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


That week, Seunghyun visits the bakery every day except for Thursday because of a tragically early and mostly pointless meeting about “team morale”. At least his boss finally thanked him for being what Youngbae has so annoyingly dubbed him as The Cake Fairy. But as far as Seunghyun is concerned, morale doesn’t need boosting as long as he keeps bringing treats to work. Because who doesn’t love cupcakes? No one, that’s who. And nothing says “I love being here” more than the handful of people who have started coming in early just to make sure they get their pick of frosting-covered ecstasy.

 

Seunghyun has done his civic duty. He takes no responsibility for any resulting cavities or health issues. Cupcake at your own risk.

 

Of course, his newfound sense of philanthropy has a lot more to do with feeling bad about not buying more than a cheap cup of coffee when he goes to Maddie’s with the express purpose of flirting with Jiyong. Can he consider that mixing business with pleasure? He’s certainly received way less death threats from his coworkers. And a morning of Jiyong’s teasing smiles makes it a lot easier not to care about anything else.

 

Namely, the fact that Maddie hasn’t stopped humming the wedding march under her breath whenever she rings him up.

 

When Saturday actually arrives, Seunghyun has to tell himself to calm the fuck down after his first thought is to hop on his bike and ride to the bakery. He’s seeing Jiyong later. For several hours. _Hours_. Where he will be inside Jiyong’s apartment and no one can tell them to “please keep their super gay courtship rituals to a minimum, the customers are staring.”. It’s a little exciting. Okay, a lot exciting. But also anxiety-inducing, because this seems like a pretty massive make it or break it moment to Seunghyun. In small doses, he can keep his eccentricities to a minimum. In large doses? Well, let’s just say Jiyong better be ready.

 

And he definitely looks ready, judging by the brilliance of his grin when Seunghyun walks in the door at five o’clock on the dot--nervously wiping his hands over the red and black plaid button-up he only tossed on when he realized showing up in just a t-shirt was probably not the best choice.

 

“Nice shirt,” Jiyong greets, smirking as he unties his apron. “Is this your way of telling me what your hobbies are?”

 

Seunghyun glances down at himself and huffs. “I am not a lumberjack.”

 

Nut-brown eyes travel over him from head to toe as he approaches, Jiyong’s lips still twitching even as he squints critically and sighs.

 

“You’re right. You’d never be able to grow the beard and then, naturally, you’d be ostracized by the entire lumberjack community and forced into a life of emptiness and isolation.”

 

His eyebrows knit together and he nods in somber agreement. “The Saddest Almost-Lumberjack in the World.”

 

“Can’t you two at least wait until I’m gone to be weird with each other?” Maddie groans, gathering her bag from behind the register.

 

“I’m sorry, was that weird?” Seunghyun frowns and shoots her a look over his shoulder before turning back to Jiyong. “It wasn’t weird, right?”

 

“Pretty sure we’re the antithesis of weird,” Jiyong declares, not missing a beat.

 

She pauses at the doors and stares at them each in turn, defeat clear in the hunch of her shoulders.

 

“Letting you two meet was a terrible idea.”

 

Jiyong beams, giving her a small wave. “Night, Maddie.”

 

“Say hi to Roz for me,” Seunghyun calls cheerfully.

 

The door squeaks on its hinges and then shuts with a heavy, metal _thunk_. Jiyong peers around Seunghyun to check the sidewalk outside.

 

“Is she gone?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Great.” Jiyong jogs over to lock the doors, spinning on his heel and grabbing Seunghyun by the wrist on his way. “Come on.”

 

He gets unceremoniously tugged into the back room where all the wizardry happens--the aroma of freshly baked cookies and breads still hanging thick in the air. He’s been here before, but this time it reminds him so much of his mother that he doesn’t notice what’s right in front of him at first, lost in another memory. Jiyong prods him insistently. Seunghyun turns his gaze to the table and laughs.

 

“How many coffee cakes have you made this week?”

 

“More than I wanna count,” Jiyong mumbles, handing him a fork.

 

Cutting off a chunk, he pops it into his mouth, hyper-aware of how intently he’s being watched. The perfect marriage of cinnamon and sugar dances over his tongue and he smiles as widely as he can while still chewing.

 

“This is the closest you’ve ever been, I think,” he murmurs.

 

“But not close enough.”

 

Jiyong’s body language gives away the extent of his disappointment--like a balloon finally letting go of its last breath. Seunghyun extends a hand to rub at his shoulder.

 

“Next time, maybe.”

 

But Jiyong just shoves his hair out of his face and plucks the fork from Seunghyun’s grasp, spearing his own chunk of coffee cake and chomping on it dejectedly, talking as he eats.

 

“It’s really frustrating, you know, because she doesn’t use any of the recipes she wrote years ago or whatever. I’ve never seen her look at one. Half the time she doesn’t even measure her ingredients. She’s like some kind of evil baking mastermind.”

 

“Or it’s witchcraft,” he offers.

 

“Definitely witchcraft,” Jiyong agrees, and at least now he’s smiling again.

 

Seunghyun leans back against the table, eyes sweeping over the empty cooling racks waiting to be filled. The glistening ovens, the spots of flour on the floor that escaped the broom. He wonders if Jiyong has been trying so hard to get this right for his sake or if there’s something else going on. He’d bet money on the latter and he folds his arms across his chest, deciding to take a chance.

 

“Can I suggest something?”

 

Cocking his head to the side, Jiyong makes an apologetic face. “Sorry, this is a suggestion-free zone. You’ll have to take your opinion elsewhere.”

 

He scoffs and elbows him roughly in the arm, making him erupt into giggles, and for that reason only does he forgive the jerk for being...a jerk.

 

“I’m kidding. Of course you can,” Jiyong chuckles.

 

When he stuffs more coffee cake into his mouth, Seunghyun uses it to his advantage.

 

“Maddie wouldn’t have hired you if she didn’t trust you or didn’t think you were good enough. And you’re obviously good enough--”

 

Jiyong makes an incoherent, cake-muffled noise, but Seunghyun knows exactly what he’s going to say and shakes his head.

 

“So you’re not the same as her, big deal. You’re still _you_ ,” he insists. Jiyong scowls, chewing faster, and it’s seriously the most adorable thing.

 

“You have talent in spades, you’re a cupcake monster, that fruit tart you made yesterday was like eating fucking sunbeams. I mean, even _you_ said you weren’t very good at following rules. Have you ever considered maybe not bending over backwards to emulate Maddie so much and trying to make the coffee cake your own? Because her name’s on the sign, but you’re the one busting your ass back here, and I just think everyone should know what you’re capable of.”

 

Seunghyun finishes and he’s actually a little breathless from trying to get all of that out before Jiyong could stop him. Except now that he’s said it, Jiyong is silent--studying him like he grew five heads and a set of dragon wings. Worse, is that that glimmer of affection that Seunghyun absolutely wasn’t ready to identify is present in his eyes again, and it’s got his stomach butterflies on high alert.

 

Ditching the fork, Jiyong moves slowly but deliberately, shifting over until he’s standing in front of Seunghyun. He knows, in the back of his head, what’s about to happen and even though his brain is experiencing difficulties, his body sure isn’t--arms dropping almost automatically to grip the edge of the table. Then Jiyong steps forward, slotting himself effortlessly into all the remaining negative spaces like he was meant to be there, and Seunghyun has all of three seconds to prepare before their lips are touching.

 

For the life of him, he can’t do anything but stand there and let Jiyong sink into him, the soft pressure of his mouth better than any cake could ever hope to be. He opens readily when Jiyong kisses him deeper, sparks of joy zipping through his veins as their tongues meet and tease their hellos. Seunghyun can even taste the cinnamon and pecans and brown sugar and he moans happily, hands suddenly remembering they have a purpose, and he trails them up the length of Jiyong’s arms to his shoulders and his neck and buries them in the pink mess of his hair, smiling as he does.

 

Time evaporates around them. Reality becomes an abstract concept. All he knows is the physical. The long fingers digging into his back, the slow flick of a tongue along his bottom lip and the scrape of teeth that follows. The body molded against his own that bends when he bends and doesn’t want to let go.

 

But eventually it has to--Jiyong’s kiss turning gentle and his grip going loose as he eases away, pupils so blown when he opens his eyes that they’re nearly black.

 

“Thank you,” he whispers.

 

Seunghyun’s smile blooms big and dopey on his face. “You’re welcome.”

 

The smile he gets in answer is about as giddy as they come, making his heart flop around like a dying but delighted fish.

 

“God, I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you,” Jiyong blurts and flushes red immediately after.

 

“Less than a week ago,” Seunghyun reminds him, tone dry.

 

“Yes, less than a week ago.” Jiyong laughs. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

 

He shakes his head. “No.”

 

And it really doesn’t. The last six days have all felt like a bizarre extension of themselves, stretching out into a closed loop where there never was a time they didn’t know each other. Seunghyun understands that his penchant for romanticizing everything is in full gear right now, but honestly it’s no less accurate for that.

 

Thumbs stroking along the swell of Jiyong’s cheeks, he sways in for another kiss, lightly fitting their mouths together, loving the slide and catch of their skin and the way Jiyong melts against him with a pleased sigh.

 

Seunghyun doesn’t want to die here and now. But if he did, he can’t say that he’d be too upset about it.

 

“As much--” Jiyong chokes on a giggle when Seunghyun interrupts him by planting more kisses all over his cheeks. “As much as I’d like--” he huffs. “ _Seunghyun_.”

 

“M’sorry, am I distracting you?”

 

Forcing Seunghyun to stop attacking his face, Jiyong captures his hands and smiles. “I need to get started on dinner. I have a self-inflicted curfew at nine because I have to be up so early.”

 

“How early is early?” he asks, reluctantly letting him withdraw, already missing the contact.

 

“Before the sun rises.”

 

“Gross.” Seunghyun frowns. Because really, that’s obscene, but Jiyong just rolls his eyes and starts putting away the coffee cake.

 

He stuffs his hands in his pockets while he waits--watching him float between the kitchen and the front counter, hitting the lights and locking doors, making sure everything’s in order for the next day. There’s something satisfying about it. About the certainty in his movements, like this--the bakery, _any_ bakery--is a second place to call home. Or maybe it’s the first, Seunghyun doesn’t know yet, he just knows that he really wants to see Jiyong in action. Then he’d probably have even more reasons to switch from swoon-adjacent to a full on blackout.

 

“So do you turn into a pumpkin if you stay up past nine?” Seunghyun asks when he’s done, holding the back door open for him while he hits the last of the lights. Jiyong snorts.

 

“No, but I do turn into Cinderella’s re-animated dead cousin the next morning.”

 

“Are you a Night of the Living Dead kind of zombie or is it more of a 28 Days Later thing?”

 

They step out into the alley, keys jangling in Jiyong’s hands as he locks the door behind them.

 

“Technically they were still alive. So probably Romero’s version,” Jiyong replies, sparing Seunghyun a wry glance. “I’m not exactly firing on all cylinders when I get less than six hours of sleep.”

 

He checks his phone. It’s five thirty-five on the nose. “That gives us about three and a half.”

 

Nodding, Jiyong steps backwards, sauntering in the direction of the street, and Seunghyun’s mouth goes dry at the way his lips curl into a knowing smirk.

 

“Then you’d better make them count.”

 

_Fuck me._

 

He swallows thickly and rushes to catch up, that coy, flirtatious spark in Jiyong’s eyes telling him that his wish may actually come true.

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  
  


Given a certain someone’s self-proclaimed “weird obsession” with all things pink, Seunghyun expected the apartment to reflect that a little more obviously. He can’t decide if he’s disappointed or not and he says as much a few minutes after they enter the cozy, haphazardly furnished one-bedroom.

 

Jiyong emits a quiet chuckle. “Just because I love pink doesn’t mean I want my apartment to look like Strawberry Shortcake vomited all over it.”

 

“Yeah, I suppose that would be a bit much,” Seunghyun concedes.

 

“A bit,” Jiyong smiles. He leaves his bag on the couch, toeing his shoes off. “Um, make yourself at home, I’m gonna go change real quick.”

 

To be honest, Seunghyun has never known what to do with “make yourself at home”. Most of the people who say it don’t actually mean it, because no one wants their guests walking around with their pants off. Unless that’s the point, obviously. He’s pretty sure it’s not. At least not yet? Seunghyun quickly shuts down that train of thought and decides to wander around poking at things instead. He doesn’t want to _assume_.

 

“It makes an ass out of you and me,” he mumbles to himself, studying the framed photographs of Jiyong and his family littering the bookshelves.

 

There’s a very lived-in vibe going on, Seunghyun notices. The details feel personal. Like Jiyong picks things because he likes them and not because he’s concerned about looking cool. What surprises him, though, is that he was wrong about the pink--it _is_ everywhere, you just have to pay attention. Magenta in the spines of books, rose and fuschia splashed across framed concert posters, strawberry weaved into the afghan blanket draped over a recliner, bubblegum and cerise and peach in the flowers sitting on the table. Seunghyun wonders how much pink he’d find if he looked in Jiyong’s closet and hopes one day he’ll have the privilege of finding out.

 

Just as that thought enters his mind, the man in question exits his bedroom, and Seunghyun has to hold onto something so that he doesn’t sink to the floor in sexually frustrated agony.

 

Jiyong freezes, a not-quite-smile toying at the edge of his mouth. “What?”

 

 _Oh, like you don’t know_ , Seunghyun wants to accuse. And he would, if he remembered what words were for. But for the time being all he’s capable of is gaping--eyes drinking in the tightest black jeans ever and an equally tight black tank top that hugs his well-built body in _all the right places, help me, jesus_. Jiyong’s tanned shoulders are remarkably offensive. His arms, too. Even the way his hair is artfully tousled and pulled back in a loose bun turns Seunghyun on, and he’s starting to think he might have a serious problem.

 

“You really fight dirty, you know that?” he eventually murmurs, glad that he doesn’t sound as wrecked as he feels.

 

Jiyong’s lips spread wide in a full smile now and he shrugs nonchalantly like he didn’t just destroy Seunghyun’s everything.

 

“I had to level the playing field somehow.”

 

Seunghyun immediately thinks Jiyong is crazy and that maybe Youngbae was right and they deserve each other after all. He huffs nervously and shakes his head, at a loss. Jiyong just grins, stepping closer to take his hand.

 

They end up in the kitchen, Seunghyun forced to sit at the table and watch as Jiyong gets to work on making dinner. And if he thought things were bad before, they’re definitely worse now, because he has to bear witness to this horrible human in motion. He definitely needs to be more careful about what he wishes for in the future. Or at least more specific.

 

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you’re relatively easy when it comes to food,” Jiyong says, flicking a burner on to boil a pot of water.

 

“Can’t imagine what gave you that idea,” Seunghyun drawls, dropping his head into his hand while he stares. How can he not.

 

“Lemon chicken and fettuccine in a garlic cream sauce sound good to you?”

 

Groaning loudly, he covers his face and then sags in defeat, mock-glaring at his tormentor. “How is this leveling the playing field, exactly? Your culinary prowess alone tips the scales in your favor.”

 

Jiyong comes pretty close to cackling as he juggles pots and pans and utensils, always moving. The deadly aroma of simmering garlic and butter permeates the kitchen and Seunghyun holds back a second groan because it smells incredible.

 

“You’re the sweetest guy I’ve met in a long time. This is the least I can do,” Jiyong admits, turning to give him a surprisingly shy smile.

 

“I’d hate to learn what falls under the category of “most”.”

 

He hears another burst of amusement and Jiyong sets one of the pans aside before walking over to the fridge and pulling out a small glass container. Seunghyun thinks he isn’t going to get a response to that, but then Jiyong’s right there, free hand sliding into Seunghyun’s hair and tilting his head back.

 

Those dark eyes are lit up and his smirk is as dangerous as ever and Seunghyun is just as unprepared when their mouths meet, stomach dropping out on impact. He gasps, reaching out to latch onto something, feeling the slight dip of Jiyong’s waist under his palm and soft fabric warmed by hotter skin. Seunghyun wants to touch that skin. All of it. Every inch. Map it with his tongue and his teeth and know what it feels like when it’s pressed against his. It doesn’t help that Jiyong’s mouth moves so achingly slow. Because it’s the kind of kiss that might lead somewhere if they weren’t otherwise occupied. But alas, pasta calls.

 

Leaning away, Jiyong licks his bottom lip and bites into it briefly, curbing the width of his grin. “Stick around and maybe you’ll find out,” he murmurs.

 

And then he returns to the stove like he didn’t just scramble the shit out of Seunghyun’s brains, hips swaying as he goes.

 

The notion that Jiyong asked him to come over so that he could feed him delicious food and then fuck him is all a bit much to digest. Not that he’s complaining, hell no. It’s just that life rarely works out this well for him and he wonders if this is cupcake karma blessing him with its mysterious and sugary powers.

 

Once the haze of lust clears, Seunghyun and Jiyong slip back into easy conversation. They talk about food, which is a given, and music--Jiyong favoring the classics over the contemporary. Which, of course, results in Seunghyun loving him just a little bit more. It’s like the floodgates have opened and now they can’t shut up, bouncing from genre to genre and excitedly swapping anecdotes about the artists that mean the most to them. For Jiyong it’s Prince and Stevie Nicks and Notorious B.I.G.. Seunghyun tells him the story about the first time he heard Nina Simone and cried because her voice was so haunting it punched him in the gut.

 

Next thing he knows it’s nearly seven and he’s got a steaming plate of awesome sitting on the table in front of him, Jiyong plopping into the chair on his right, legs casually cutting into his space like it’s habit. And maybe it is now. He’d like it if it was.

 

“You’re entirely too good at this,” Seunghyun practically moans around his mouthful--garlic, lemon, and cream coalescing in glorious harmony on his tongue.

 

Jiyong blushes and looks like he wants to deny it, but he nods. “Thank you.”

 

“Who taught you?” Seunghyun asks, devouring another heap of pasta-laden paradise.

 

“My dad,” Jiyong replies, twisting noodles around his fork and smiling gently. “He loved being in the kitchen so much it was sometimes impossible to get him out of one.”

 

So being a workaholic runs in the family, he muses, envisioning a tiny Jiyong standing on a stool while his dad teaches him how to crack his first egg.

 

“What about you? Who gave you your sweet tooth?”

 

“That would be my mom,” Seunghyun intones. “She’s the leading cause of cavities in my family.”

 

Jiyong breathes out a laugh. “She sounds wonderful.”

 

“Oh, she is,” he confirms, pausing for a moment with his fork hovering above his plate, because his brain wanted him to keep going--to tell Jiyong that she’d probably love to meet him. But that seems a bit bold for two people who haven’t even known each other for a whole week. Doesn’t it?

 

Seunghyun flicks his gaze to the right and finds his cheeks heating when Jiyong quirks a curious eyebrow at his sudden silence.

 

“She’d like you a lot,” he says as a compromise, voice low.

 

“I bet I’d like her, too,” Jiyong replies just as quietly.

 

And Seunghyun believes him.

 

He pops a piece of chicken into his mouth, scolding himself because he always has to make things weird. Except the bare foot nudging at his ankle says he’s being dramatic and the conversation returns to less serious waters, Jiyong teasing him every time he emits hopelessly happy food noises.

 

“You’re not allowed to be this cute.”

 

Seunghyun snorts, helping him carry stuff to the sink, and rolls up his sleeves so he can start on the dishes.

 

“You’re also not allowed to be this well-trained. Now I really need to meet your mother.”

 

Laughter bubbles in his chest, buoyant and loose. “I’ll let her know you appreciate all the years of conditioning she put me through.”

 

“You still win the award for best manners,” Jiyong informs him absently, drawing another container out of the freezer and setting it on the counter.

 

He shoots him a disbelieving glance. “Have you been dating a lot of cavemen or something?”

 

“Compared to you, they’re all cavemen,” Jiyong mutters. The container opens and from the corner of his eye can see something that is definitely made of chocolate.  “You like cheesecake, right?”

 

“You’re really asking me that?” Seunghyun asks, disbelief growing stronger.

 

“Better safe than sorry.”

 

On a single plate, Jiyong places the prettiest, most pristine slice of chocolate and caramel cheesecake Seunghyun has ever seen. It’s stunning. It’s flawless. It’s basically coming on to him and he hurries in scrubbing the final pan, drying his hands off with the first dish towel he can find.

 

Jiyong is giggling at him before he even finishes, waiting there at the counter with a new fork in his fingers, hip cocked invitingly. This is like sensory overload. Or he’s dead and this is heaven, because the most gorgeous human is currently offering him cheesecake and that can’t be real. Seunghyun leans on the counter across from Jiyong, plucking the fork from his grasp.

 

“I think you need to stab me in the arm with this fork.”

 

Jiyong’s brow furrows. “And why would I do that?”

 

“Scenarios like this only happen in my dreams,” he explains, peering down at the perfect cheesecake, already mourning its passing.

 

“Eat the cheesecake, you nerd,” Jiyong chuckles and promptly takes the first bite.

 

Dark eyes watch him carefully as he listens and scoops some onto his fork, tracking every moment until it disappears and Seunghyun’s soul weeps with the utmost delight. His eyelids even flutter shut, he can’t deal with how amazing it is, and he doesn’t open them again until every last decadent molecule is gone.

 

“Did you make this?” he asks, swiping his tongue across his lips to chase the flavor.

 

“Mmm,” Jiyong hums, gaze unfocused. “Yesterday.”

 

“It’s incredible.”

 

Color blooms high on Jiyong’s cheekbones as Seunghyun goes for another bite, falling apart all over again and probably making really inappropriate noises. When he’s about to go for his third, he pauses.

 

“You’re not eating.”

 

Jiyong blinks and then scowls. “You’re distracting.”

 

“Not sorry,” Seunghyun sing-songs, cutting off a huge chunk and cramming it into his mouth all at once.

 

“Oh, _that’s_ attractive,” Jiyong drawls. But his grin is currently threatening to demolish his face and Seunghyun decides right then that nothing about this night can get any better.

 

Although maybe he should’ve narrowed the scope of that statement, because after cheesecake, they migrate back into the living room where they collapse onto the couch--Jiyong plastered to his side from knee to shoulder and, quite frankly, making him regret putting on layers. He’s burning up. Incinerating from the inside out. He worries he may actually burst into flames when Jiyong turns on the TV and then threads his arm through Seunghyun’s, gradually linking their fingers together.

 

Seunghyun recognizes that there are images flickering on the screen, but doesn’t see them. He reminds himself to breathe evenly and not lose his mind over how stupid he’s being about this. Or he would, if he wasn’t suddenly so devastated by every point of contact between them. Which is ridiculous in and of itself since they’ve already made out twice. Seunghyun sighs. Jiyong shifts closer, stroking his thumb along Seunghyun’s skin.

 

“What time is it?”

 

He picks up the remote and checks the TV menu. Ten after eight.

 

“Should I start a countdown?” Seunghyun asks.

 

Jiyong clenches his fingers tightly. “Ha ha.”

“Do you ever get a break from this?”

 

“Not unless I request time off. It’s kind of a full time gig,” Jiyong replies, half-shrugging and angling his head back to look at him. “Whenever I’m not at the bakery, I’m here decompressing. You’re experiencing me in my natural habitat.”

 

Returning his gaze, Seunghyun arches an eyebrow, pointedly glancing at the black-clad thighs spread out before him.

 

“Right. Because you totally wear skinny jeans in your down time,” he quips.

 

With a raised eyebrow of his own, Jiyong smiles and presses his cheek to Seunghyun’s shoulder. “If you wanted to get me out of my pants, Choi, all you had to do was ask.”

 

His heart skips and stumbles at the playful words, breath catching in his throat. Jiyong’s thumb strokes the back of his knuckles and he can’t help but notice the way those dark eyes keep dipping low to look at his lips.

 

“I wasn’t aware that was an option.”

 

“It is,” Jiyong answers, smile twitching wider.

 

Seunghyun nods. “Good to know.”

 

And then whatever imaginary wall of hesitation was holding them at bay shatters--Seunghyun surging down to crush their mouths together and Jiyong literally dragging him off balance until they’re sprawled back on the cushions. Their hands are everywhere, kisses sloppy but enthusiastic and Seunghyun’s mind explodes into a million different directions, because now that he’s here nestled in the cradle of Jiyong’s thighs he _wants_. Wants so many things; things he didn’t let himself think about until this very moment where he discovered that he could have them. But then Jiyong takes two handfuls of his ass and squeezes, rolling his hips up against Seunghyun, sucking on his tongue and generally doing an excellent job of short-circuiting his brain.

 

It jolts him directly out of his head, redirecting his attention to feelings and not thoughts, every atom engaged and powered up and generally pretty jazzed about existing. So when Jiyong does it again, lithe body pressing up into his, Seunghyun presses back, focusing only on this. The solid contours of wiry muscle beneath his softer ones, the slide of warm, wet lips, the strain of his cock against his jeans and the knot of pressure in his gut.

 

He buries his fingers in Jiyong’s hair, shifting to change the angle and kiss him deeper, making the hands on his ass knead firmly, making them both groan in mutual appreciation. It’s fucking fantastic. But still, Seunghyun wants. Mostly to rip Jiyong’s clothes off. He legit shivers just at the _idea_ and then breaks away with a sharp inhale--ready to put this plan into motion--when he sees Jiyong’s face and he kind of really needs a few minutes.

 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Seunghyun blurts, breathless.

 

Though honestly, “gorgeous” doesn’t even begin to cut it, because the ethereal fucking being gazing up at him right now is beyond mere adjectives. Jiyong looks unreal, all mussed and half-lit and glowing with a want that mirrors his own. Seunghyun has the urge to stab himself with that fork again, but then Jiyong’s red, kiss-swollen lips are parting in another smile and he’s lost.

 

“That’s supposed to be my line.”

 

He huffs, leaning in drag his mouth across Jiyong’s jaw. “Tough shit, slowpoke.”

 

That earns him a slight chuckle, the vibration of it making his lips tingle.

 

“So…” Jiyong begins, hands stroking their way up Seunghyun’s back, arching into the lazy kisses and gasping when Seunghyun slides his tongue over the side of his neck. “How-- how do you wanna do this?”

 

He smirks as he lifts his head to peer down at him. “Are you trying to ask me if I top or bottom?”

 

Biting his lip, Jiyong nods once, and Seunghyun leans in again slowly.

 

“I’d really, really love it if you put your cock in my ass,” he whispers into his ear, grinning.

 

He can actually feel the way Jiyong shudders in response, those long fingers digging almost painfully into his back.

 

“Bed. Now,” Jiyong demands.

 

Seunghyun can’t help it, he cracks up, letting himself be rolled off the couch and shoved out of the room, already unbuttoning his lumberjack shirt with eager fingers and shrugging it onto the floor. He goes for Jiyong’s tank top next, rucking it up along his torso and peeling it from his unfair body.

 

“I’m gonna sound like a broken record, but seriously, you’re ridiculous,” he murmurs, gaze eating up the sight of all that bared, golden skin.

 

“Shut up,” Jiyong laughs.

 

“Make me.”

 

Which has the desired result of Jiyong yanking him in and kissing him senseless, scrabbling for the hem of Seunghyun’s t-shirt and only pulling away long enough to remove it. The sensation of smooth skin on skin when they crash back together is blissfully perfect. Better than he imagined. In fact, Seunghyun is so fixated on this one thing that he doesn’t realize they’ve been migrating towards the bed until he’s bouncing onto the mattress--Jiyong standing there panting between his legs like some pink-haired god come to have his wicked way with him.

 

That analogy gets much more debilitating once Jiyong reaches up to undo his bun, cotton candy locks tumbling down in a wave to dust his shoulders, a few loose strands falling into his eyes. Seunghyun thinks he could probably black out right about now, because he’s way past swooning.

 

As if reading Seunghyun’s mind, or maybe just his horribly turned on expression, Jiyong smirks and starts to unbutton his jeans. When the first flash of hipbone makes his cock throb, he honestly can’t decide if he wants to watch or hide his face in the sheets. Instead, he chooses impulse, lurching forward to sit at the edge of the mattress, and attaches his lips to Jiyong’s chest. Seunghyun sighs when he feels fingers in his hair, drawing a pert nipple into his mouth and earning a low hum of enjoyment. He maps whatever he can find with his tongue and his hands, stroking up and down Jiyong’s sides--his stomach, the small of his back, and eventually the curve of his ass when Seunghyun slips them beneath tight denim. But that’s where his exploration comes to an abrupt halt.

 

“You were commando this whole time,” Seunghyun states, both eyebrows raised as he glances up, aroused and entertained in equal parts.

 

“Yup,” Jiyong answers simply.

 

“Someone was optimistic,” he drawls.

 

Snorting, Jiyong tugs at his hair. “I was hopeful, there’s a difference.”

 

Seunghyun continues pushing the jeans down, unable to stop himself from mouthing at the freshly revealed skin or from teasing the head of Jiyong’s cock when he pulls it free.

 

“Consider yourself lucky, I don’t usually put out on the first date,” he murmurs, smiling as Jiyong half-moans and sways closer.

 

“I consider myself--” Jiyong moans again, Seunghyun licking a wet stripe along the sensitive underside. “--more, than just lucky.”

 

“That makes two of us,” he mumbles.

 

But before he can even think of taking that beautiful, flushed cock into his mouth, he’s being propelled back onto the bed, Jiyong forcing his jeans all the way off and making quick work of the rest of Seunghyun’s clothes--shoes and socks flying into unknown corners, jeans and boxers ripped from his legs in tandem. He’d laugh if Jiyong didn’t look like a wild, impatient animal who wanted to eat him, eyes even darker as he rakes them over Seunghyun’s body. He swallows. He’s always been a little self-conscious about his appearance. About the softness he’s carried with him since childhood. But he doesn’t feel that way now, not when reverent hands are caressing their way up his thighs and his stomach, Jiyong laying on top of him and kissing him like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

 

Their legs tangle together, the heat of Jiyong against him satisfying in a way he wasn’t ready for as they roll around on the sheets. Seunghyun could honestly do this forever--the slow grind of their hips turning him into a whiny, panting mess. The glorious feeling of Jiyong’s wandering fingers passing over his skin, making him want to dissolve and sink closer. Always closer.

 

“Spread your legs for me,” Jiyong murmurs, rolling them again and pinning Seunghyun’s arms to the bed.

 

He offers a hazy grin and lets his knees fall open. “With pleasure.”

 

Jiyong smiles back, dropping a kiss on each of his cheeks and sliding lower, leaving more kisses on his throat and his collarbone and the center of his chest, hands following the same path as he goes. Seunghyun gasps and sighs, eyelashes fluttering when Jiyong noses into the crease of his leg and nips at the meat of his thigh, sucking a red mark into his skin. His cock can’t take much more of this and he rocks his hips mindlessly, wanting more and less at the same time. Especially when Jiyong keeps gazing up at him from underneath his hair, all glittering feline delight. _Little shit._

 

“Please,” he begs, not ashamed in the least. “I need you to fuck me. I’m dying over here.”

 

“You’re not dying.”

 

“I might be.”

 

Jiyong rolls his eyes and gets on his knees, leaning over the edge of the bed and returning with a bottle of lube and a condom. Seunghyun definitely doesn’t shiver in anticipation while he watches the lubricant drip onto Jiyong’s fingers. He does, however, grip the sheets tightly when the first finger rubs at his hole and then eases inside, mouth falling open as he bears down in a plea for more. Happily, Jiyong obliges, slipping in a second and third finger and working him loose. It’s a test of self-control not to fuck himself on those fingers, the stretch and slide far too good, but he does it. Somehow.

 

“Still dying?” Jiyong asks, twisting his wrist until he finds Seunghyun’s prostate.

 

He bucks his hips at the bright burst of sensation and groans, just more out of frustration than joy.

 

“Yes, you asshole.”

 

Gleeful in his amusement, Jiyong bends over to capture his lips, teasing him with his tongue as he continues to pump his fingers at a maddening pace.

 

“How bad do you want it, Seunghyun?” Jiyong murmurs against his mouth.

 

“Bad enough that I’m seriously considering holding you down and doing it myself,” he nearly growls.

 

“Well, I’m certainly not gonna stop you,” Jiyong mumbles, letting out a surprised giggle when Seunghyun immediately flips their positions.

 

He grabs the condom and tears it open with his teeth, rolling it onto Jiyong’s cock and slapping his hand away when he tries to reach for the lube, making him laugh louder. Seunghyun would probably take more time to appreciate the sight if he wasn’t so fucking hard, slicking Jiyong up with the patience of a five year old and straddling his hips. It isn’t until he finally has Jiyong’s cock inside of him, taking it in as fast as he can manage, that he breathes deeply and waits for his body to adjust.

 

Jiyong’s not laughing anymore, but he is smiling--staring up at him with his hair splayed out on the pillows like a candy-pink halo, captivating beyond reason. Seunghyun braces himself then, palms planted on either side of Jiyong’s head. He leans close and watches Jiyong’s face as he rocks his hips, wringing a low moan from those pretty lips.

 

“You’re so hot,” Jiyong sighs, fingers gripping Seunghyun’s waist and encouraging him to keep moving.

 

Unable to do anything other than blush, he shakes his head, thinking that they’re both morons. But morons who--he can now say with authority--absolutely deserve each other. Seunghyun wonders if Jiyong feels the same way. He hopes he does. He’s almost certain he might, judging by the fond tilt to his mouth and how he keeps pulling Seunghyun in to steal kisses.

 

It makes it difficult to concentrate on the rhythm, but Jiyong stays with him, bodies working together as he alternates between grinding and slamming himself down on Jiyong’s cock in shallow thrusts. The sound of their skin slapping together mingles with the unintelligible noises spilling from their mouths. And for a while there, Seunghyun can’t even tell who’s doing what, lost in some dreamy, faraway place where everything feels super awesome and Jiyong is a vision of sweat-dampened beauty beneath him.

 

“Are you close?” he pants.

 

Jiyong nods jerkily in response, apparently unable to word as he chases his orgasm, and Seunghyun doubles his efforts. His muscles are starting to burn, but it’s one of his favorite parts and he doesn’t care--just loves feeling his body do its thing. Especially when Jiyong clamps onto Seunghyun with enough force to bruise, lifting his hips off the bed and swearing as he pounds into him, sailing over the edge with a drawn-out groan.

 

 _Jesus christ_ , Seunghyun thinks dazedly, feeling Jiyong twitch and pulse under him. He continues rolling his hips, going easily when Jiyong yanks him into his arms--one snaking between them to take hold of his cock and jerk him off. Somehow, they end up on their sides, a mess of limbs and Seunghyun chanting expletives into the crook of Jiyong’s neck when he comes. The pleasure of release courses through him like magic and stardust and he melts with Jiyong onto the mattress.

 

Seunghyun usually loses all concept of time after sex and he has no idea how long they stay there not moving, just breathing. But eventually he does muster the energy to throw an arm around Jiyong, pressing a formless kiss to his shoulder.

 

“Stay?” Jiyong asks a moment later, nose buried in Seunghyun’s hair.

 

“M’not going anywhere,” he mutters.

 

Scratching gently at his scalp, Jiyong exhales and relaxes against him.

 

“Good.”

 

Seunghyun doesn’t remember much after that. Only the constant brush of soft lips on his skin as he drifts and the heat of another body holding him close until he falls asleep.

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  
  


Something electronic and rage-inducing rudely yanks him out of unconsciousness the next morning. At least he thinks it’s the next morning. He can’t tell, because when he opens his eyes it’s still dark, and he groans, worming his way back into the safety of fluffy pillows.

 

“Oh my god,” he grumbles. “ _Turn it off_.”

 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Jiyong chuckles, the bed dipping as he moves, and the horrid beeping finally ends. “I did warn you.”

 

“I forgot,” Seunghyun whines.

 

He emerges from underneath his pillow to blink bleary eyes at Jiyong in the twilight, just barely making out through the shadows that he’s sitting up.

 

“How in god’s name do you do this every day?”

 

“Habit.” Jiyong shrugs. “You get used to it.”

 

“You’re insane,” he laughs.

 

“That’s been brought to my attention before,” Jiyong replies, and he can hear his smile more than see it.

 

Seunghyun stretches languidly before pulling himself upright to join him, eyes adjusting to the darkness a bit more as he tilts forward, mouth meeting Jiyong’s cheek.

 

“So much for a lazy Sunday morning,” he murmurs and nudges their faces together, wanting nothing more than to cuddle the shit out of him right now. “Next week you should ask off. I’ll make you breakfast.”

 

Jiyong’s grin blooms against his skin as he nudges back.

 

“One night and you’re already planning our future together?”

 

“You got a problem with that?” Seunghyun smirks.

 

“Not particularly,” Jiyong mutters, lifting his hand to cup Seunghyun’s jaw, and angles his head for a real kiss.

 

It’s tender--alarmingly so--but he accepts it gladly, running his fingers up along Jiyong’s arm as he hums in contentment.

 

“You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll leave the spare keys,” Jiyong whispers.

 

Seunghyun shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll tag along, if that’s cool.”

 

“More than cool,” Jiyong answers, and something in his voice tells him he said the right thing, despite feeling like a fraction of a human being and sleeping for another ten days would be the best thing ever.

 

Jiyong slips out of bed, still as naked as he was the night before, and Seunghyun ogles him openly--more, when a light gets switched on and he can see all the enticing details. He watches him wander around the room, picking out clothes from a set of drawers and the closet, graceful even in the mundane. And as he watches, Seunghyun comes to the conclusion that he could get used to this. Soul-crushingly early mornings included. Because waking up to Jiyong, in any way shape or form, would be worth it. So worth it. Because even after such a short time, it’s the truth. And it’s unavoidable.

 

Pausing in the doorway, Jiyong runs a hand through his hair as he turns to look back at Seunghyun and tosses him a small smile.

 

“Are you gonna join me in the shower or not?”

 

“Hell yeah I am,” he blurts, making Jiyong muffle a dorky giggle behind his fingers.

 

He honestly couldn’t have jumped out of that bed any fucking faster.


End file.
